


Ordinance 23

by Mixxy



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Sex, Crack, I wrote this at four in the morning guys, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Cecilos, Pre-Relationship, The crackiest of fics, The officer keeps the balaclava on the whole time, here there be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixxy/pseuds/Mixxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been six months since Carlos got to Night Vale, and he's starting to go mad. He can't get off knowing that there are microphones all around his house. He just can't. It's a mental block.</p><p>So one day he snaps and covers up all of them. An officer comes to investigate and he tells them, look, I'm not uncovering them until I'm done, so you can either let me be or stay and help.</p><p>The officer chooses the second option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinance 23

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a post from [fuckyeahfilthyheadcanons](http://fuckyeahfilthyheadcanons.tumblr.com). "headcanon: Cecil slept with a member of the SSP once. He couldn’t tell you which member since the balaclava stayed on but _it happened._ " I made it Carlos instead of Cecil mainly because I misread it but I liked how it turned out so yeah
> 
> Neutral pronouns given for the SSP officer because just because they have a dick does not identify gender! *throws confetti*

Three times he'd tried to get rid of this tension prickling under his skin, and three times he'd had to stop before things got good. The knowledge that there were microphones not-so-subtley hidden all around his house added just enough of a level of discomfort that he couldn't get off. It had been six months now since he'd had an orgasm, and he was going insane.

It didn't help that the radio host was cooing about him over the radio in a tone that sent shivers down his spine. He just wasn't ready for a relationship, but good god, did that voice do things to him. And he  _wanted_ , he wanted so  _badly_ , but every time he started to touch himself in the dark of his bedroom, all he could think about was the SSP officer probably watching from the window and the microphones picking up his every little gasp. It freaked him out to the point he had to stop, even if he tried to do it under the covers of his bed. For awhile he thought that the shower was the solution but then he'd spotted a tiny mic so that was out.

But then today he'd agreed to have coffee with Cecil. He still didn't want to date him- not yet, not until his work reached a stable point- but the radio host had kept brushing his hand while talking, "accidentally" rubbing his foot against Carlos' leg under the table, glancing up at him with those beautiful eyes and all Carlos could think of was how they would look darkened with lust. 

He had all this tension, and nowhere to put it, and he was  _done_ with all of this Night Vale shit. He'd had enough. With the determination one only gets when an orgasm is all but promised, he'd taken every mic in the room and taped over each one. There. No listening in.

Feeling giddy with rebellion, he undressed and stretched out on the bed, already half-hard at the thought of  _finally_ getting release. The first few stokes felt absolutely fantastic, and he moaned unashamedly at the sensation. God, he was so close already, it had been way too long. Ah, yes, he'd like to make it last longer but he needed it so very badly...

A sharp rap at his window. "Ah! Christ!" he scrambled up, searching for something to cover himself, but the balaclava-clad agent had already opened the window and slipped inside. Carlos stood there, burning with shame and anger and sheer frustration that  _he still hadn't came_. "What seems to be the problem, officer?"

The officer- it was impossible to tell the gender the way the suits were built, they all looked alike- pointed at the nearest microphone. "Local ordinance 23, subsection 5," they said in that monotone voice, the one all of the agents had. "Citizens must keep their city-approved monitoring devices free and clear to the best of their knowledge."

Carlos was fuming, fed up with all of this Night Vale nonsense once and for all. He didn't eat wheat or wheat by-products. He kept a dream journal and followed the instructions. He didn't think about angels when not needed. But this was just too much. "Look," he said, almost growling at the agent, "I'm not turning those back on. I'm going to finally get off. And if you're so damn set on monitoring me, then you can just stay and watch, because I'm not going to set those back up. Not until I'm done."

He stood there, shaking, glaring at the agent, who said nothing. Nor did they move. For a good minute and a half, neither of them said anything, just looked at each other. "I mean it," Carlos said, intending to call their bluff. "I'm going to continue either way. No matter if you're here or not."

The agent didn't react. Okay, fine. Carlos sat back on the bed, still looking the agent in the eyes (at least he thought so) and- he couldn't believe he was doing this- began to stoke himself. It felt good,  _so_ good. His eyes fluttered shut and he picked up the pace, allowing his legs to fall apart ever-so-slightly. It was- different than the cameras. He was still being watched, but...he was in control this time. It was heady, a rush, and he groaned, hips rocking lightly up into his fist.

When he opened his eyes, the agent was still standing in the same place. Carlos' head lolled to the side, panting as his hand sped up, still gazing at the officer, eyes half-hidded. He licked his lips and arched his back, feeling the tingles of orgasm growing low in the pit of his stomach.

Slowly, but with purpose, the agent began to walk over. Stalk. Giving Carlos plenty of time to shy away, to be apprehensive, to ask what the hell the agent thought they were going.

But he didn't.

He just slowed his hand, still breathing hard. The agent slid one leather-gloved hand across his head, fingers running through his hair. Carlos leaned into the touch. It felt so nice to have someone touching him while he was getting off- he might not have had an orgasm in six months, but he hadn't had anyone  _with_ him during an orgasm in...God, three years? It had been a long time.

The hand stopped at his jawline, cupping his face. Without thinking, he opened his mouth and leaned over, taking the thumb into his mouth and sucking at it. No visible response from the agent, so he sucked harder, pressing his tongue against the smooth material.

Then he was being urged off the bed- gently enough that there was no force, no threat. He could have protested. But he didn't, just fell to his knees, still achingly hard and mouth already watering in anticipation.

The agent undid their belt, then the zipper, then- oh, wow, no matter the gender of whoever was under that uniform, they had an absolutely spectacular cock. And they were rock-hard. Without further delay, he leaned forward and drew his tongue along the tip, licking away the pre-come.

No noise, but the hand in his hair gripped a little harder. He went at it, then, licking along the underside of the length, circling the tip of his tongue around the head just to tease, then sucked when he'd felt teasing was enough. He couldn't take it all the way, not when it had been so long since his last relationship, but he took as much as he could, one hand on his own cock and the other working the part of the shaft that didn't fit into his mouth.

The agent never talked, never made a single sound, and strangely, Carlos found that he didn't mind. The hands petting his hair let him know when he'd done something especially right when they faltered, pulled a little. Carlos let go of his cock and grabbed the officer's thighs, trying to pull them in deeper. He knew on some level that he should have been ashamed, gagging for it like this, but it had been so  _long_ , and he'd always liked the weight and feel of sucking dick, and the pure filthy absurdity of it-  _I'm sucking off a secret police officer that came in through my window because I taped over the microphones_ \- just made everything that much more heated.

The grip in his hair tightened, pulling him off. He whined a little, feeling cheated- the agent hadn't even come- but then he was being lifted to his feet, turned around, bent over the bed, and  _oh_ , yes, he could live with this instead. He pressed his ass up a little, just to show the officer how very okay with this situation he was.

When the fingers traced over his entrance, they were slick, and for a second Carlos wondered if the officer always carried lube with them or if they had thought ahead for this particular situation. Then there was a finger slipping inside, then two, and Carlos moaned into his mattress as they scissored inside him. His toys just couldn't compare to the feel of someone else.

Three fingers were slowly rubbing against his prostate with uncanny accuracy, and Carlos wasn't even a little ashamed of how he was rocking his hips back, groaning like a whore. "Come on, come on, I'm ready, please, fuck, just- I'm ready."

The first press of the head against him made him suck in a breath between his teeth. The officer had put a condom on and re-lubed their cock. How thoughtful. "Yes, that's it, come ooo _oooon_."

The rest of the word was lost in a low moan as the agent's cock pushed into him, filling him and there was a burn, yes, but also it was so  _good_. Once he was all the way inside Carlos, the officer stopped, hands firm on Carlos' hips, grounding him. He laid his cheek on the mattress and panted, not really in pain, but savoring the feeling of being full again. He'd forgotten how much more sex had to it than orgasms. "'S good. Move."

Still no vocalizations from the other person, but Carlos was giving little "ahn. hah." noises as the agent slowly began to thrust. Each push of their hips was so rhythmic, so precise, that Carlos wondered if that wasn't some sort of side effect of their training. Each push seemed to be the exact same number of seconds apart, and Carlos fisted his hands in the sheets as he pushed his hips back to meet the next one. "F-Faster. C'mon."

The next thrust was deep and good and came so close to brushing his prostate. He gasped, throwing his head back. "Yes, fuck, come on, fuck me. Fuck me! Just- j-just like that-  _ah_ , yes!"

It was coming faster now, still with the same razor-sharp rhythm, and oh, god, Carlos was going to burn alive from the inside out. He couldn't stand it, couldn't stand all of this, he needed to come and it was too much and not enough and he wanted to scream and beg and  _ahhh fuck fuck fuckk_

"Right there, right th- _ere_ , yes, I-  _yes_ , I-  _ah- ah!- oh-h-_ "

The officer reached around his front, still mercilessly fucking him, and began to play with his nipples, casually rolling and pinching one, then the other. Carlos' mouth fell open in a silent cry. How did the agent know that he loved that, that it was so sensitive? Oh, right. The Sheriff's Secret Police knew  _everything_. Including, apparently, how to make Carlos completely fall apart.

The hand not currently circling one of his nipples wrapped around his cock and pumped once, twice, and that did it, Carlos was coming so hard he saw stars, clenching the sheets in his hands hard, crying out wordlessly as the agent kept fucking him through it, until he was boneless and oversensitive and making soft kittenish noises as the thrusting continued.

Not long after, the agent grabbed Carlos' hips tight and stilled, buried deep in Carlos, hips jerking even as they held him in place. Carlos was already feeling dazed and sleepy when they pulled out and walked away. There was a noise, but Carlos couldn't care to look over (or maybe just lacked the energy now). Then the agent was back, pants done up, the picture of composure, easing Carlos into a more comfortable sleeping position, pulling the blankets up over him. Carlos smiled at them, feeling happy and sated and just a little sad as he realized he'd never be able to tell this particular officer apart from all the others.

When he woke up, he walked with a slight limp, all of the microphones were back the way they should be, and there was a stop sign immunity card taped to his bedside lamp with one of the circles stamped.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been going through some weird stuff that's left me completely unable to write (or do basic everyday functions) for about a month now. This is my attempt at getting back on my feet a little bit. Little steps. Baby deer steps. Please be kind to the baby deer. It is trying.
> 
> So this is definitely the most crackfic I've ever written. Well, the pairing at least. Most crackfic might be in a tie with victorian-steam-powered-vibrator fic.
> 
> I have a WTNV blog [here](http://floating-cats.tumblr.com) where I post fics, sneak peeks, reblog a ton of fanart, and have a headcanon hoedown every now and again. Come drop me a message if you'd like, or just come and chat. I promise I don't bite! Only maim a little.


End file.
